What I Do For Love
by AndThenBurnTheAshes
Summary: What would you do if you could never have what you wanted the most? Partially canon with several twists. SasoDei oneshot.


A.N: Well...first ever A.N, nah? Well, in this story we have a sick and twisted Sasori, an extremely OOC group of Akatsuki members, and a confusing story overall. There are mentions of rape, so I felt I had to put this as M. And the conversation with Itachi, I just...couldn't...get...right! Well, if you have any suggestions, I would really appreciate them!

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What is love? Love is something that everyone feels, whether towards family, friends, or lovers. Love can be sweet and tender, gentle and caring, full of good-morning kisses and late-night cuddles, or just the words "I Love You." over and over and over again. That is Love.

Love is not supposed to be painful and fearful. Love is not ripping and tearing, biting and bruising. Screams and shrieks of agony, fear, hatred; those do not happen during Love. That is Love's sick older brother. Lust.

When Love happens, and you see the Loved One for the first time, the urge to be with them is so strong you feel as if you might die without them. Talking to them (or in some cases, arguing with them) for the first time can take your breath away. The way the sun might glint off of their hair, turning it to pure gold, or the way their eyes, as blue as the ocean, glint when they laugh. Their laugh.

Shh. Listen. Even now, you can hear it. And you want to hear it as much as possible. So you are overjoyed when you find out that you and the Loved One are to be partners. As they set about getting their shared room (with you, of course) put together, you try and engage them in small talk.

"What's your name?"

"How old are you?"

"Where are you from?"

If the Loved One is feeling nervous or shy, they may murmur their answers, not looking you in the eye, instead choosing to look out the window or at the floor. But if they are feeling particularly brave, they may look you in the eye and answer your questions.

"Deidara."

"I'm fourteen."

"I'm from Iwagakure, un."

You might be surprised at how different their voice is from how you expected it to be. The feminine looking child in front of you has to be the girliest looking boy you have ever seen.

And yet...

That makes you want the Loved One even more. Everything about them endears them to you. Even the 'un' thrown in at the end of some of their sentences (an adorable speech impediment, you think to yourself) just makes you want to cuddle them. Of course, you can't let them know how much you like them now, can you? So you boss them around and tease them and call them 'Brat', and soon enough it's your first mission together and you're running as fast as you can with the Loved One right behind you, and you're thinking 'almostmadeitalmostmadeitalmostmadeit' when the Loved One screams from behind you, and there's a _disgusting_ shinobi with his _filthy_ hands on _your_ Loved One, and you see red and all of a sudden, the red is all over you and the ground and the Loved One, and they stare back at you whispering 'youkilledhimyoukilledhim' and then they pass out. You bring the Loved one back to the base and heal them, making sure to never touch them more than you have to, otherwise you might keep grab onto them and never let go, and then two years have passed, and your love has only increased.

The Loved One is now sixteen and has become even more beautiful to you. And it seems like everyone else seems to see that too. The girls (or rather, _girl_ in this case) ask whether or not they like anybody or if they have a special someone back in their village, and you wait with bated breath as the Loved One answers.

"No, I don't have anyone back in the village for me, un. I've never dated anyone. Besides, I don't think anyone would want me with /these/ on my hands" and the Loved One holds up their hands to show the mouths that at first weirded you out, then got used to because you began thinking of all the ways that those hands could be put to use.

Everyone, including the Loved One, laughs at this, but you don't laugh because you see the look shared between two of the other members, a look that conveyed a whole conversation in five seconds. It said, "I want you. I need you now." and they leave you alone with the Loved One. So you sit and watch them make more of those ridiculous clay sculptures that they call 'art' until you can't take it anymore and you finally say "Goodnight, Brat." and leave the room. You're halfway down the hall when you hear the Loved One's reply.

"Goodnight, Danna!" and you walk back to your room, locking the door behind you, and lay on the bed and hear him saying 'Goodnight, Danna!' over and over and over again, until you can imagine him saying Danna in a whole new way, with him writhing and moaning beneath you, and you can't take it anymore, and you run into the bathroom, moaning your release into the toilet, his name on your lips the entire time.

And then two more years have passed, two more years of yearning and longing, two years of anguish when you find out that the Loved One is dating their longtime self-proclaimed arch-enemy, the one who forced them to join the organization in the first place. Dating for one year, eight months, two weeks, four days, fifteen hours, twenty-three minutes, and eleven, twelve, thirteen seconds. But who's keeping track?

Almost two years of hugs, cuddles, kisses, sweet-nothings whispered in the other's ear, and all the while you have been thinking to yourself 'thatshouldbemethatshouldbeme', and one night, as you lie awake (because you never really sleep), you hear _it_. The sound of bedsprings creaking, moans starting out quiet at first, but build in volume until the crescendo, when you can hear the sounds of their lovemaking coming to an end, and then the resident pottymouth comes down the hall screaming, "Shut the fuck up, fuckers!" and the Loved Ones boyfriend (you hatehatehate that word) calmly says the magical word which will immediately put the pottymouth in a world where no one can hear you scream, his screams echoing down the hall.

And then...

You hear it. Your Loved One's laugh. What caused you to fall in love with him in the first place. And you lay there, a laugh escaping your mouth which quickly changes into a sob, but you _can't_ cry because you're a puppet and _puppets don't feel anything_.

But if that's true, then why does this hurt so much?

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Another year has passed. The Loved One is now nineteen, and the most beautiful creature to ever walk this planet, you think. Another year of bed-spring creaks and moans and covered ears at night, and even though you are being _torn apart_ inside, you still smile and laugh with the Loved One, if only to see his laugh one more time before you die, because who knows when that will be?

The leader has ordered another mission, this time to go and capture a child with a monster inside of him. He's not unlike yourself.

Only, the monster in you wasn't put inside of you by anybody. It started out as a small, niggling feeling inside of the only part that's left of your human body, and it's grown and grown and grown until whenever you see the Loved One you can barely contain the monster inside of you, can barely keep it from coming out and taking the Loved One right there.

Although, now the Loved One has become the Lusted After, so let's just call them that from now on, alright?

Alright.

The Lusted After takes off on one of his silly clay birds to capture the monster-child, leaving you to wait for him to report back. You hear footsteps approaching, and you turn around to see the Lusted After's boyfriend heading your way. Oh, how you utterly _loathe_ him. He is the perfect example of a model child: smart, talented, and _too damn pretty for his own good_. He stops a few feet away from you and smirks.

"Are you still upset over the fact that I got to him first?" the little bastard says while looking down at you. Damn him for being so tall. "I would feel sorry for you, except for the fact that it's almost pathetic, how you always hang around him, trying to get him to talk to you. In fact, it makes me sick. Of course, if I were you, I _would_ be jealous, seeing as how he is the cutest thing in bed. All of his whimpers and moans...well, good thing I'm _not_ you, isn't it?"

He's mocking you.

He's.

Mocking.

You.

A red cloud covers your vision and suddenly, it's not a cloud but a thick, oily, coppery-smelling substance that covers you, and your red hair is absolutely drenched in the stuff and you're laughingandlaughingandlaughing and the red stuff on your arms makes it look like you have a pair of dark red gloves on, and the _grey_ stuff in your hands...the most delicate part of a body is _in your hands_ and you're still laughing, the red and grey and white and pink of the body squelching beneath your feet, and then there's a scream, a high-pitched howl erupting from the throat of the Lusted After, who just came back from the mission with the monster-child in the tail of his clay bird, and then the Lusted After is kneeling at your feet (goodgoodexactlywhereheshouldbe), holding the mutilated body of his boyfriend (not!), screaming foul words at you and sobbing loudly.

"I HATE you! Why would you kill him?! I loved him and YOU WENT AND KILLED HIM! I'm going to KILL you for this!" and he's beating at your chest, attempting to stab you (pathetic, you think to yourself) and kick you. But you just grab the Lusted After's arms and shove them against a tree, finally able to partake of the precious fruit you have been longing after for five long years. They struggle and scream, trying to escape, but they are no match for your Lust, the monster that has been growing inside of you, which has finally managed to claw its way out. Pinning the Lusted After belly-first against the tree, you croon those three little words that you have been longing to say in their ear...

I.

Love.

You.

And when you finally, _finally_ thrust yourself deep inside of them, so deep you think that all of you might be swallowed up by that tight, _velvety_ heat, you groan and whisper 'iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou' into their ear, the Lusted After's shrieks of agony blending with your moans and the sounds of your lovemaking (yes, of course this is lovemaking) to create an orchestra of love and passion, and finally, _finally_ you reach the peak and you whisper their name, bringing the orchestra into its final crescendo, and ending the piece.

Panting, you pull yourself out of the Lusted After. Only, now that you have them, you don't Lust after them anymore. No, now, instead of being Lusted After, they are now Your Puppet. Your Puppet collapses to the ground, shaking and shivering with cold and pain. You gather them up, wrapping them in your cloak, and you leap onto Your Puppet's bird, which still has the monster-child wrapped in its tail. You fly up for a little while, then release the child from the bird, not caring where they fall, the only thing that matters being Your Puppet. Gently, you set them down in a cave that only you know about, one that you found while you were sulking (no, not sulking, _thinking_)over your then Loved One, who you had just gotten into an argument with, an argument that you can't even remember what it was about. You bundle them up in the back of the cave, where no one will be able to find them, and you take off back to your (former!) organization. You need to have a talk with the other members. By now, they must have found Your Puppet's (former!) boyfriend (or what's left of him, anyway) and noticed that both you and Your Puppet are missing. They aren't stupid, eventually they'll be able to figure out that you had something to do with it, and then they'll come looking.

So why not go to them now and save everyone the trouble?

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They are waiting for you when you get back. The people you have grown close to in the past twenty or so years when you joined in with them. Some of them you could even consider to be your "friends".

Not.

Grinning, you land Your Puppet's clay bird and are immediately attacked by the biggest member of the organization, the shark-like swordsman.

"Why'd you do it?! Why'd you kill him?! He did nothing to you, and yet you go and kill him!" the shark-man is too close to you. Looking back up at him and then at everyone else, you see so many different emotions flitting across their faces, yet one emotion is shown on all: anger. Hate. Rage. The desire to killandburnandripandtear until there is nothing left, nothing left to cry over.

And yet, they won't cry, will they?

So you stand and listen to their screams and accusations, all the while smirking to yourself as you think about Your Puppet that will wake up soon, all alone in the cave. They won't remember a thing.

Hopefully the drug worked.

"Where is he?! Where did you take him?! You were seen flying off with him, so where is he?!" the Leader, finally taking charge, shaking your shoulders until you are forced to look up at him, at the pain in his eyes, the rage of losing yet _another_ member, and a valuable one at that.

And suddenly, you yourself are filled with rage, at the Leader, at everyone else, even at Your Puppet, and you can't hold it in anymore, and suddenly the air is filled with screams and howls, and the Leader is clawing at your face, but you simply twitch your pinky and tighten the chakra string around his neck, lifting him and everyone else up off of the ground, high up into the air, where even a god will be killed if they fall. And when you finally slam them all down into the ground and hear all the bones breakingbreakingbreaking and the self-satisfying squish of their ribcages collapsing and their heads caving in, it doesn't bring you the sense of satisfaction you thought it would, but you shake off the feeling that this is wrongwrongterriblywrong, attributing it to Your Puppet not being there.

"W-why...?" you snap your head around to see the immortal man, the only one you had not managed to kill, dragging himself towards you, bloodlust practically radiating off of him. "Why are you doing this to us...?"

Grinning in sudden unabashed abandonment, you stride towards the immortal man and stand over his broken but rapidly healing form, the immortal's ever-present scythe in your hands.

"Why?" you ask of him, the scythe barely brushing his neck. His hand reaches up to grab the scythe. Soon he will be healed up enough to fight again, and you don't want that.

The scythe swings.

Your words hang in the air.

"Because it's what I do for love."

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A.N: OMJ I finally finished this. After two and a half months of working on this (I procrastinate a lot), I finally finish. And just in time for school to start. Seriously. It starts in four and a half hours. ...Well, I'm glad it's over with, and please, if you have any kindness at all, review! I wanna know how my first ever story went!

ATBTA has left the site.


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